


A Rush of Blood to the Head

by Rhea32



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Attraction, Deceit, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, F/M, Falling In Love, Lies, Murder, POV First Person, Plot Twists, Post-Apocalypse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-25 14:09:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6198043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea32/pseuds/Rhea32
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the successful leader of the Minutemen, Sophie meets Deacon, a man shrouded by mystery, she finds him very attractive and deeply intriguing. Convinced that love in a post-apocalyptic Boston is a recipe for disaster, she tries to put him out of her mind - until they keep running into each other in the strangest of places.</p>
<p>Pessimistic yet curious, Sophie realizes she wants this man. And, when one day she discovers a secret behind those dark sunglasses of his, it only makes her want him more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After I finished my previous fanfic 'Far From Any Road', it left a big, gaping hole in my heart. The urge, the need to write again was irresistable to me. 
> 
> This is the first time I try my hand at putting Deacons brilliant and fascinating, yet dark personality on paper. A story with a plot, a twist and a passionate romance. More chapters to come, updated weekly. 
> 
> Like where this is going? Tell me why. Not your cup of tea? Tell me why. Feedback is my oxygen. I always aim to learn and improve myself. 
> 
> My eternal gratitude goes towards my dear friend Alacoda, who is my beta-reader. Her opinions, corrections and remarks have been a great help in creating this story.

It was one of those nights that kept you awake. Only this time, it wasn't your past actions haunting you - impeccable timing as always - when you wanted nothing more but to drift away into a peaceful sleep. Nor the classic mental replays of conversations, pinpointing the exact moment where you fucked up and made a fool of yourself. No, not this particular evening. A whole different type of struggle kept everyone up later than usual, crowding the streets and making the city appear to be more lively and safe than it truly was.

A heat wave struck Boston and it had zero intention of leaving. The past days were hot, long and exhausting. Today wasn't an exception. It made travel and commerce increasingly difficult, the people easily agitated. As I made my way to the bar I passed people flocking together on makeshift terraces in front their rotten shacks, hoping to catch that one cool breeze on their sunburned faces.

In the distance, a red neon light flickered wildly in the darkness. I couldn't make out what it said. But according to her vague directions, I was on the right track. And almost on time.

'No funny business.' One of the staunch doormen warned me before I stopped in front of the entrance. I shook my head. Keeping an eye on other incoming visitors, he held the door open for me. I didn't knew what to expect of this place. Then again, if the liquor was as good as she led me to believe earlier today, I didn't care.

When I entered the bar, it was hot and unpleasantly crowded. A thick cloud of cigarette smoke twirled through the air. A couple of girls were dancing by themselves, lost in the rush of the jet they had inhaled. I looked around and immediately realized how this bar wasn't like the others I've been to. Not in the slightest. This one was themed. Horribly ironically themed, at least for someone like me. On the right wall, posters of long forgotten musicians were hung up. Chuck Berry, Elvis to name a few. I wondered if anyone aside from me - and maybe the owners - actually knew the music playing from the big jukebox to my left.

'Sophie! Over here!' She waved a tiny notebook up and down towards her face.

'You actually made it!' Her smile was broad and honest, as usual.

'I can't say no to you, Piper. You know I can't.' I charmingly replied and took the seat in front of her. I placed my leather bag down at my feet and made myself comfortable in the red chair. She was a close friend, one of the few people I could trust. And those people, well I could count them on one hand.

'You alone, Blue?' She asked curiously, her eyes peeking behind my shoulders.

'Yeah, just me.' I wondered who she'd expect.

I couldn't help but be fascinated by the interior. Aside from posters, the owners had displayed three guitars in glass cases - a little bit damaged, but seemingly in working order. Being surrounded by relics of my past, I couldn't help but feel nostalgic and a little saddened. I wondered if I could still play the guitar once I got the chance to hold one. My thoughts and feelings were badly camouflaged, because Piper picked up on them instantly.

'You don't like the bar? My friend from the upper stands told me about this place. What, don't tell me you don't like this place.' She winked at me playfully. You see, there was another reason she scored high on the list of people I held dear. If someone would ask where I was from - _truly from_ \- only Piper could answer that question correctly.

'It's ah- a bit comical. Yeah, I like it.' I eventually decided on.

'So... see anything you like?' She grinned, raising one eyebrow as she sipped from her drink. Her eyes flickered wildly, like the candle placed on our low table.

'I'm not sure.' I hesitantly replied, after I took a quick glance over the men seated around us. There were two type of men present at this bar. Mercenaries, devoid of emotion as they discussed their latest dealings with their clients. And rugged, unwashed farmhands and caravan workers, coming here of all places to spend their precious caps. I could pick 'em out the crowd just as easily as the unknowing targets through the scope of my rifle.

'Blue, c'mon. I don't mean to sound insensitive but it's been _two years_.' She bowed over towards me, placed her hand on mine. 'You need to let him go. It's time. Be happy.' The words flowed softly over her cherry red lips. She had a point. I'd be lying if I said she didn't. But her words, no matter how caring and emphatic... they remained easier said than done.

'Don't you miss having a special someone around? Sharing little secrets, whispering sweet nothings in each other's ears...' She continued in a dreamy voice, staring into the distance as if said scenes came to life before her eyes.

Ever since I emerged from the Vault, only to find out my husband could not, you could say my view on romance has become pessimistic to say the least. Time heals all wounds they say, but this one never closed up properly. Some days it would fester, other days it felt as if I made peace with it, accepting its presence. But my views remained the same, even if two years had passed. _Romance? In times like these?_ Only a fool would think it was a mere harmless dream to chase. So eventually, I stopped bothering.

'You're a hopeless romantic. How can you live with yourself?' I jokingly asked her, throwing my hands desperately in the air. But I knew the answer to my own question already. She didn't let her mind wander over the consequences, the risks. She lived in the moment. Unlike me.

'Fine, I'll drop it.' She said, slightly annoyed by my cynical behavior.

'Besides, I have far more important news!' She exclaimed, raising her voice.

'Oh?'

'I hereby pronounce a toast! To our latest top story!'

She positively glowed when she announced her latest success, dangling her nearly empty whiskey glass in front of my eyes. Top story she called it. More like my life being portrayed as that of a  true heroine of this time, with the sole purpose of stitching the Commonwealth back together. She had been nagging me for weeks to cover a story about my line of work, but I hesitated. I was proud of my work as General of the Minute Men - never liked the name - but I disliked the idea of a story about it, blown out of proportion. I knew it was her style, but I didn't want unnecessary attention. If there's one rule to live by in the wastes, it's keep your head down and mind your own damn business. A motive to kill is cheap nowadays and didn't always have to make sense.

'I'll get us another round.' I announced, since I didn't yet have a drink to toast to her latest article.

'I'll check out the jukebox in the meantime. It's got all the classics, Blue. I love it.' She told me, right before handing me some caps for the drinks.

I shook my head. 'My treat.'

I made my way towards the bar, unable to avoid contact with wayward limbs of strangers, their clothing damp and reeking of sweat. When I finally made my way through the sea of people, I found a lucky empty seat and waited for the bartender to notice me. There was only one and he clearly couldn't handle the considerable crowd he had to serve this night. The look on his face varied from panicked to concentrated while sweat poured down his temples. I decided to wait patiently, unlike other costumers shouting at him to win his attention.

A familiar guitar riff blasted through the bar. A classic. One to set the mood and if you asked me, it fitted the theme of the bar pretty nicely. Good old Pre-War classics, how I've missed you.

_'Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans...'_

The barstool next to me opened up. Didn't stay empty for long. A man, dressed in a washed out white t-shirt and jeans claimed the seat as his own. His hair was wavy and thick, dark as coal. He stared into his whiskey, nonchalantly stirring it around. For a moment it looked like he was contemplating his whole life. But then again, I couldn't be sure as his eyes were covered by a pair of dark sunglasses which made him significantly harder to read. I found it odd. I wondered why he wore them. You know, during the nighttime and in a bar with dimmed lights. It made little sense.

Suddenly, I heard three guys approach me from behind. Took a brief look over my shoulder and I could tell they were bad news. I could smell it from miles away. Two of them were clearly egging the broadest of the group on. The smallest one of the bunch, was stifling a laugh and staring me down.

The broad one approached me, his two friends standing behind him as if the show was about to start, eagerly watching his every move.

'Well, well. Look what strolled into the bar tonight.' He put his arm around me, where it didn't stay for long. I pulled away, harshly, without hiding my disgust for the way he came on to me without warning.

'Fuck off.' I replied, short and disinterested. I turned my head back to focus on the bartender in front of me. Cut them off short, it's the best chance to avoid discussion.

'Watch out, this kitty has claws.' I heard one of his friends say, amusement in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

'Bad mouth, hm? Just how I like 'em.' I felt him close in on me. He placed his arm on the bar next to me, preventing me from leaving.

'I don't think you understand.' I hissed, staring into his eyes, 'I said fuck off. Do you want me to spell it out for you?' I smirked, confident he'd leave me alone after I made myself clear. He seemed young. Younger than me, and clearly drunk.

At that point he reached for my wrist, clenching it tightly. When I tried to escape from his grasp, I couldn't. I'd made him mad. Dealing with humiliation in front of his friends clearly didn't sit well with him. Hoping he wouldn't notice I pulled up my right leg so I could reach for the knife I always carried with me, strapped safely around my ankle. Just in case.

'Fellas, fellas.' The man who sat next to me spoke up, out of nowhere. His voice was a little hoarse but deep, like one of a wintered ex soldier down on his luck, drinking away the memories by himself in a bar. A bar just like this one.

'Now there's no need to treat a lady like this.' He continued, his words focused, confident and unwavering. He told them off as if he laid out the simplest truth in life. Didn't even see a point to turn around and face them. Instead, he continued to savor his whiskey undisturbed after he was done talking.

'What's it to you, freak? You her lover?' He snapped, still holding my wrists.

Then and only then did he turn around to face the men, a giant confident smirk appearing slowly on his lips. He seemed to enjoy this.

'Well call me old fashioned but see, I have an issue with how you're treating this lady right here.'

'Oh you do, do you?' The idiot turned his attention towards the mysterious stranger. I was eager to see how this strained situation would resolve itself. I sat on the edge of my seat, simply observing this clash of testosterone like an outsider. It was most amusing, despite the fact I was still a captive.

'Yeah. I do.' He continued, stone cold. 'Now here's what will happen. One, you're letting the lady go. Two, you return to your drinks and enjoy the rest of the evening. This never happened. Sounds good, gentlemen?'

The three of them clearly didn't expected to be lectured this way. Not like that. It left them speechless, something I couldn't achieve. I saw the broad one hesitate, visibly breaking his brain improvising a comeback, a witty reply. Whatever his plan was, it stopped dead in its tracks once his eyes locked on two golden high polished, engraved ten millimeter guns that the stranger was carrying on the back of his waist. Those were some damn quality guns. I always appreciated professional craftsmanship.  

The little one mumbled it wasn't worth it. Barely audible, but loud enough for him to hear, get the message. Aggressively he let go of my wrist. My skin was a bit red and sore, but this was nothing compared to other fights I had gotten into before. He raised a menacing finger at my savior. His eyes were disappointed and angry, as if he couldn't live with the idea of running from a fight he knew he couldn't win.

'If I see you here again, you're dead.' He threatened, already in the process of retreating, tail between his legs. What a joke. I watched them vanish in the crowd.

'You okay?' He caught me off guard by placing his hand on my shoulder to face me towards him.

'Yeah. Thanks. But you didn't need to.' I murmured, still blown away by the fuzzy, warm feeling this ordeal left me with.  Been a while since I got help without asking, charging or begging for it. This man didn't need to get mixed up in my problem, yet he did. This act, it captivated me in the most unexpected way.

'My pleasure. Don't mention it.' He simply stated, shrugging it off like it was nothing. As if his daytime job consisted of nothing else but saving seemingly innocent and frail women such as myself from idiots with no concept of boundaries.

'I'm Sophie.'

I saw my own reflection in his sunglasses. My smile was crooked and confused. Then he stretched out his hand towards me. Not too many people did this anymore. This simple gesture, it had died out almost completely. Afraid of diseases, alienated from human contact.

'How pre-war of you.' I giggled, my mind debating if I should just straight out tell him how charming I found this gesture. How much it reminded me of my past. I placed my hand in his. His touch was warm and tight. He gave me a little squeeze before he let go.

'Hey, fits the theme.' He chuckled and pulled up his shoulders.

'What can I get you?' The bartender. I had forgotten about him.

I ordered two whiskeys. Couldn't help but thinking that saving a damsel in distress would make for a nice reason to spark up a conversation. But it didn't. Instead he continued to stare into his glass as before. The forlorn expression across his features returned and our short conversation retreated. Even though the bar was filled by loud old rock tunes, the uncomfortable silence was very noticeable for me. I wondered if he came here by himself. Somehow, I doubted it. I had met plenty of men his age before, but never this type. This one was _different_. Call it a hunch, call it listening to your guts.

'What's with the glasses?' I asked him eventually, for lack of better conversation material. I cringed at myself, wishing I'd come up with a more interesting question. Hell, I could've asked him if he came here often and still be more satisfied with the my conversation starter.

'Oh these?' He looked up instantly, wiggling his glasses up and down briefly without revealing his eyes. 'It's called style, sugar.'

Surprisingly, for the first time the crassness of these kind of words charmed me. I let out an uncomfortable giggle and nodded at him. Not knowing what to say, I took a swig from the drink that the bartender presented for me a few seconds ago. I noticed how my leg was bouncing up and down on the metal bars of the stool. A drop of sweat poured down my chest. I unbuttoned my flannel shirt a little, hoping it would make the heat more bearable.

He reached for his jacket that hung in front of his legs against the brick wall. As he lowered his face, I could feel his breath on my arm. It was only briefly, but I could clearly feel it. Such an intimate gesture, yet meaningless for us two strangers in the night. I didn't expect myself to notice it, let alone be startled by how this simple action affected me. The fact that I found him strangely attractive didn't help. I grew a little bit nervous as he came back up. He smelled of peppermint and whiskey. Something else too, something sweet. I couldn't place my finger on it.

'So, _Sophie_. Enlighten me.' My name rolled of his tongue as if he had pronounced the name of a delicate, rare flower. He flipped open the metal lighter. With one short spark, he lit up his cigarette. 'What brings you to a place like this?'

'I'm here with my friend.' I replied, cursing myself for not coming up with a more exciting answer.

'Then why aren't you with your friend, _hm_?' He murmured, then shuffled a bit closer to me. I looked behind my shoulder, wondering how long I'd been sitting here and leaving Piper by herself. She was in deep discussion with a man, dressed in a black suit. Brown, short hair. Tall. Her type. And when I saw how she leaned in close when he spoke to her, I knew I could stay away a little longer. This pleased me greatly, because my curiosity wasn't sated at all. I didn't get to answer his question, for he had lined up a new one.

'You like the music?'

'It's my favorite. Can't beat the classics.'

'You know, I'm all for a little rock'n'roll now and then, but nothing beats jazz. I'm a big Sinatra fan myself.'

My eyes narrowed and I cocked my head. This man was smooth. Too wordy, too smart. Out of place here, in this gritty bar. He continued to discuss the musicians of my past as if he was there to witness their rise and their fall. I figured it was an act of some kind, to pick up easily impressed girls. Play the hero, score the girl. Throw in a little smooth talking. A dash of old knowledge. As if he could see inside my head. It almost seemed so plausible that I concluded he was playing a trick on me. But something about him intrigued me either way. I shook my head and denied the fact I'd been looking at him, more closely as I had looked at any other man in the last two years.

'What did you say your name was?' I asked, my voice trying its very best to sound casual, unaffected by his presence. As if I wasn't dying to know the identity of my personal hero of the day. I'd given him mine, after all. He took a puff of his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke through his nose. He looked up at me.

'I never told you.'

His voice was low and teasing, as if he relished in giving me this answer. The same smirk I saw when he was lecturing those men earlier returned. Only this time, he was closer than before. So close that I could smell him. My eyes wandered over his shoulders, hoping he wouldn't notice.

'Well, do you plan to?' I smirked, my voice flirty. When I realized what it must've looked like to the outsiders, merely observing us talk I panicked. I didn't want to give him the wrong impression. So I grabbed the two glasses of whiskey - that I had forgotten about, _again_ \- and made way to leave.

'I'm Deacon.' He hastily answered, but something in his voice was off. He sounded as if he just lost a game of poker, flinging his losing cards on the wooden table whilst accepting his loss with beautiful grace. Maybe he didn't like his name. Maybe he realized the whole mysterious stranger act was in vain. But at least I knew his name.

'Well in any case, _Deacon_... Thank you for saving me this lovely evening. I'd love to stay and chat but I need to rejoin my friend.' My words were lies, hastily created to get away from this feeling that was slowly but steadily creeping up on me. He made me nervous, made me self aware of my actions, my words. My thoughts. He wasn't keen on telling me his name. Yet he didn't want me to go. If anything, I thought he had a hard time deciding where he wanted to take this. Just like me.

Piper noticed us as the man with the suit took his leave. Right on cue. She waves her hand, mentioning me to come over with the drinks.

'I'll see you around.' I told him, trying to create a loose sense of a real chance to talk to him once more.

'I'm sure you will.' He spoke and turned around to face the bar again.

 

After a few hours, Piper and I decided to leave. It was four in the morning and the bar was running dry, both on liquor and costumers. Only the hardcore drunks were left to their own devices, while the bartender gave them shit for making such a mess of his fancy establishment. Now I understood why the guitars were kept in cases.

Finally outside, the air felt like a welcoming gift. I inhaled deeply, waving my shirt up and down to let the air flow against my heated skin.

'Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. Who was that handsome guy?'

'What handsome guy?' I answered innocently, aware of the fact she'd pose all sorts of questions about us.

'Sophie, please. I saw you with him. You know, it's like I've seen him around. Yeah. I think he's a DC guard.'

'He didn't seem like the guard type to me.' I replied, faking disinterest.

'I don't know, they accept all types. It's not like they can be picky.'

Then what kind of type did he look like? A man that raised more questions than answers. A man that, if someone ever asked us how me met, I'd have to say he chased away a bunch of idiots with so much style and grace, it was hard _not_ to be curious about him.

 


	2. Chapter Two : It had to be you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sophie wakes up the next day, she decides it's for the best to put Deacon out of her mind. But faith has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene is something I had in mind for a long time. I loved writing it, I couldn't help myself. In any case, I hope you enjoy reading. Don't be shy to leave feedback, no matter how short or elaborate. 
> 
> I can't wait to reveal the whole plot, but I told myself to be patient. I really want to create the right build-up and amount of tension before I do so.

The afternoon sun hit me right in the eyes when I woke up the next day. I stretched out my arm to push open what served as a window. A welcoming cool breeze found its way inside and I shuffled the blankets off of my warm body. Laying there, flat on my back and waiting for the thick mist in my head to clear up, it all came back.

My stranger. _Deacon._

His image flashed before my eyes and I felt my lips form a broad smile I couldn't control. My eyes closed and I felt a little caught in the act, even if there was no one around. I remembered the way he pronounced my name, the way he caringly placed his hand on my shoulder and how I didn't feel the urge to pull away from his touch, unlike most men. I found him irresistibly charming. The more details that came back to me - his scent, in particular - the more my stomach filled up with butterflies. I buried my face in my pillow, the broad smile refusing to go away. I couldn't explain myself. It was both foolish and exciting, yet frustrating to deal with. My heart acted like a silly, giddy teenage girl while my brain quietly, tactfully tried to make me see reason.

They were having a lovely tug of war as I watched from a distance, pacing back and forth to see who would be the victor. I reminded myself how easy it is to lose someone out in the wastes, may it be at the hand of a trigger-happy raider or a badly timed mix up in a nasty crossfire. The taste in my mouth grew bitter and I let out a deep sigh. I forced myself to put him out of my mind. I'd probably never see him again... This thought was satisfying, making it easier to forget about him. I _had_ to. The answers to the many questions he raised were bound to become fiction, made up by my own curious mind. In a way, he did seem like trouble. The kind of trouble I was curious to chase after, just to see where it would take me.

I decided to cut my endless dialogue with my inner self short by getting up, getting dressed and making my way to Diamond City.

 

 

The city was less crowded than usual and the few residents that were outside, fought over a cool place in the shade. The trader I stood in front of was highly impatient as he served me. He shoved my groceries - a bottle of vodka, some fruit and vegetables - into my hands tactlessly as he moved onto the next customer. I was able to stow most of the items in my leather bag, carrying the remainder under my arm. As I turned around to make my leave, I tripped over a piece of cardboard sticking out from the makeshift walkway.

'Damn it!' I shouted, as I watched my supplies fall to the ground, most of them rolling out of my reach.

'Sophie. What a pleasant surprise.'

Down on my hands and knees, I looked up... and found myself locked into my own gaze, reflected in a pair of sunglasses. My heart retreated to the bottom of my stomach. This couldn't be happening.

'It's you.' I murmured as Deacon handed me my run away apple and placed it joyfully in my hand. He crouched down to help me gather the rest of my supplies.

'What can I say, I'm like a bad penny, I just keep turning up.' he remarked as we stood back up. I chuckled and felt a bit more at ease, even though my legs were trembling thanks to how nervous his surprise presence made me.

'What brings you to the great green jewel today, Sophie?'

'Just picking up supplies for tonight.'

'What's tonight?'

'Ah- it's...' I paused and glanced at the apple in my hand, my knuckles turned white. This was it. Destiny had presented me with a simple test today. It all became crystal clear. I decided to play. All in. If he refused, I knew for sure I had to let it go. Forget about the night, let the only meeting that captivated me since I woke up to this goddamn life be added to my pile of mistakes. Regrets.

'I got this weekly poker night I try to go to. Just me and some friends.' I explained as I tried to stuff everything in my bag, even though I knew it was impossible.

'Ah, poker. A game of skill pretending to be one of chance. Sounds delightful.'

'You're welcome to join us. You know, i-if you want to? I mean if you have nothing else planned. It's ah- up to you.' I rambled on and on, my voice higher than usual, my words faster than yesterday. It was like watching a train wreck happening and I couldn't look away from the crash even if I wanted to.

'Sounds like a good time. Count me in.' The fact that he so easily accepted me on my offer to rendezvous again this evening gave me the push I secretly wanted. Even if I wasn't sure what his intentions truly were, all I could think of was that he didn't say no.

'Great!' I replied, unable to hide my enthusiasm.

'Where do you want me tonight?' He smiled at me and I could see little wrinkles form next to his eyes, peeking out from the side of his glasses.

Where _did_ I want him? Close. Dangerously close. I couldn't see his eyes yet it felt as if he looked straight through me, commanding my thoughts. I mustered up all my courage and placed my hand on his shoulder. It was firm to the touch, his t-shirt sweltering hot from the sun. I hoped he didn't notice my hands were a little damp. But it was too late to pull away abruptly.

'You see that building with the sign that says Publick Occurences?' I asked, turning him around to face it.

'There.' I said, deliberately hovering my face closer as necessary to his. His scent was a sultry pleasure to me. If we both turned to face each other, our lips would be touching.

'Does eight work out for you?' I asked, taking a little step back.

'I'll see you tonight.' He sauntered away from me, leaving me to deal with the reunification of an emotion that's been lost to me.

_Desire._

 

 

When I arrived - running ten minutes late - I saw him leaning against a fence close to Piper's place. He noticed me walking towards him.

'For a moment there, I thought I got stood up.'

'Well, here I am.' I replied innocently, trying to keep my cool. 'Let's head inside, shall we?'

He followed in my steps. I didn't had the time to tell Piper I'd be bringing someone, let alone the stranger I met in the bar last night.

'Hey guys. I hope you don't mind, but I brought someone with me.'

MacCready looked up, seated at the big table in the center. A set of cards was spread out on the table, along with a pile of caps.

'This is my - ' My _friend_? He wasn't my friend. I didn't knew where he lived, what his story was. We exchanged only a handful of words, yet here he was here with me.

'This is Deacon.' I pointed at him awkwardly. 'That's Mac over here and Piper...'

'Oh it's your friend from last night.' he remarked as he looked up to her, taking a seat at the table next to Mac. He introduced himself and asked Deacon if he played a lot of poker.

I noticed how Piper signaled me with her eyes to join me in her loft above us. I climbed up the ladder, hoping Mac wouldn't spill all the secrets and details about my life I entrusted to him. Once I reached the highest rung she grabbed me by my elbow and pulled me up close, out of sight from the others below us.

'Is he- he's that guy from last night, isn't he?' Her eyes peered at me, narrowed down into a thin line full of suspicion and questions, ready to open fire on me.

I faced away from her, knowing that the grin on my face would give away the answer.

'You could say that.' I replied nonchalantly.  

'Tell me everything.'

'Don't make such a big deal out of it!' I shushed her, scared that he might overhear a part of our conversation. My eyes peeked over the ledge, to see how things were going down there. They seemed to have a pleasant chat. Piper placed her chin on my shoulder.

'He's pretty. I wouldn't wait too long, Blue.' She giggled as she whispered in my ear.

'Shut up.' I hissed at her and gave her a friendly jab in the belly. Right before averted my gaze from those below, I could've sworn I saw Deacon look up at us, no doubt at not-so-subtle ruckus we were making.

'You're blushing, oh I knew it. I just knew it!' She tried her best to whisper, but her enthusiasm had the better of her.

'Go. Offer him a drink.' She told me, shoving a bottle of vodka into my hands.

Having succumbed to my nerves, I became overly confident. I planted the bottle in the center of the table with a loud thud.

'Let's play some poker!' I exclaimed, more loudly and more crass than indented.

 

Throughout the entire game, I couldn't focus. His presence broke my concentration every time my eyes danced across his features. Even when I knew I had the winning hand, I didn't care. It was the usual type of night I expected; sharing stories, having a laugh. Drinking. Apparently our stranger was a great storyteller. His words weren't meant to only impress me... by the time he finished his elaborate story, he had all of us hanging on to his every word.

'And that's how I spent six months as a personal spy for the mayor. True story.'

'Oh boy, I'd love to wrestle all the secrets out of you. It would make for an awesome article.' Piper blurted out, noticeably drunk.

'Well shit, that's one hell of a story.' Mac chirped. 'You got any others?' He opened up a new bottle of liquor. The night was still young.

So my stranger's history included being a spy. This evening had gotten a little too crazy for me and I decided to go have a smoke break outside. Take some time-off of the intrusive thoughts I'd had all evening. They were pleasant, all right. But still highly confusing.

I climbed the iron stairs in front of Piper's place, all the way to my favorite spot in this city. It was the highest spot and made for a stunning view. It was comfortably warm outside compared to last night. I stared out into the wasteland, watching little lights flicker in the distance. I'd like to think they were streetlights, but I knew better.

'Enjoying the view?'

I hadn't anticipated his approach.

'Yeah, you gotta admit. Sometimes the nuclear wasteland has its charm.' I noticed how easily I could talk to him, now that I had some liquor in me. Just enough to control my nerves, but not enough to blatantly ask him the questions that lingered in my restless mind.

'Then imagine what it must've looked like before the big boom.' he chuckled. 'Doesn't it make you wonder?'

We both leant against the makeshift balcony and stared into the distance in silence for a while.

'Tell me, Deacon. Were you really a spy?'

'Are you really _the_ leader of the Minutemen?'

'Did Piper make you read the article? She did, didn't she?' I let out a frustrated groan. He nodded, a bit sad. But I could tell he was playing me. 'Oh god. Take her work with a grain of salt. I'm begging you.'

'You're a good person, Sophie. Give yourself a little credit. Many people out there just take the lazy option. You don't.'

Humbled by his words, I didn't knew what to say. So I listened.

'It's something I can appreciate...' he continued, 'I'm sure you'll go far with your work.'

'What makes you say that?'

'Just a hunch.'

'You have a lot of hunches.'

On the balcony above us, someone turned on a radio. A beautiful, slow tempo piano melody made its way into the night.

'Only good ones.' He grinned as he turned towards me, closing the gap that only good friends would occupy.

'You _dance_ , Sophie?' He charmingly asked me, flicking his cigarette of the balcony. The way he spoke, charmingly in his deep voice, made me weak in the knees.

He outstretched his hand towards me, uncoiling his fingers so that I may oblige.

'No.' I breathed, as I placed my hand in his. The moment we touched, it felt as if electricity coursed through my veins. Under the guise of dancing he placed the palm of his left hand on my shoulder and gave me a little tug. Our bodies touched briefly. I giggled uncomfortably, not knowing how to react.

'It's a forgotten art if you ask me. Just another thing to add to the pile the world has lost.'

'Just like a sunny day at the beach.' I replied honestly, the memory of the image still fresh in my mind.

'No radiation, no mirelurks but instead tons and tons of ice-cream.' He continued amusingly, his words reminiscent. I almost believed him.

He took the lead, swaying me gently around. Slowly. I didn't know where to look, what to think. As if my mind floated out of my body, melting together in his embrace under a star lit sky.

I stepped on his foot. Harshly.

'I'm so sorry. It's- been a while.' I apologized, my voice wavering.

'I can tell. You're rusty.' He spoke, pulling me completely against him. 'But I don't mind.' He bowed his head to look me in the eyes. I shied away from him, unable to look him straight in the face. I was tipsy enough to ignore the rules I lived by. Forget about calculating my every move. I laid my head to rest on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He didn't seem to mind. Without a care in the world, we continued to sway.

The song came to an end, but we didn't stop dancing. Our pace slowed, now only swaying in the silence of the night. He caressed my hand with his fingers subtle but brief, so brief it could've been easily mistaken by a friendly gesture. The only sound was the gentle chirring of our leather jackets against one another.

I looked up and opened my eyes.

'You never answered my question. Were you really a spy?'

He let go off me, gently taking a step back. My hand slipped away from his.

'Look-ah. There's something you should know about me.' His voice was calm and serious.

'Actually, never mind. Forget that I asked.' I replied dreamy yet stern. I wanted this moment to continue without obstacles, without delays. Without doubts.

'I should be going.' He announced, a whole different emotion in his voice. I didn't hear the charm, didn't notice his confidence. Instead, his voice wavered for the first time.

'I don't want you to go.' The words exited my mouth before I realized what I said. I reached for his arm, briefly tugging it. I wanted nothing more but to return to what I was experiencing a few seconds ago. I let my arm fall to my sides defeatedly once I saw he didn't react. He looked at me as if he had hurt me badly.

Before I knew what happened, I found myself against the iron railing of the balcony. His hands cupped my face as he moved his lips over mine, pressing himself against me passionately. Caught off guard, my reaction was delayed. Once I tilted my head, I grabbed hold of his collar and kissed him back. I closed my eyes and surrendered, allowing to let this moment swallow me whole. My head was spinning, my breath uneven through my nose touching his. His lips were a little chapped, I felt it on mine. It was a strong and long kiss, like one of lovers reunited after being separated for too long.

Suddenly he retreated as if he wasn't supposed to be there. As if he was the prime suspect caught at the murder scene. He ran his thumb over his lips briefly.

'I'm sorry.' I listened to his words, hasty and low while I stood there completely flustered, my high shattered into a million pieces. My lips tingled in the aftermath of our sudden kiss.

He vanished into the darkness, leaving me with even more questions than I imagined possible.


	3. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the strange way Deacon parted from Sophie, she is left with even more questions than the night they met. She tries to come up with an explanation, yet none of them seem to make any sense. At least not until a couple days later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First (semi) NSFW scenes, just the way I imagined them. More to come, because I need to get it out of my system. :P I've fallen for them, honestly. This is the chapter where I worked on the longest, even if this one is a bit shorter as the previous two. Hope you enjoy reading!

Three days had passed since I last saw him, yet the answer for his sudden vanishing eluded me still. In his absence I had grown doubtful of the way I kissed him, regretful of the moment I asked him to stay. I felt like a naive fool, investing my trust in a stranger. I couldn't believe how easily I had let myself be seduced by charming words and sweet gestures. Yet there was something about him... Something I couldn't quite define, that greatly enticed me to seek him out at least one more time.

I dismissed these futile thoughts. My mud-stained jeans slipped off my legs, finally free of stiflingly hot fabric. I fell to my bed and forced myself to clear my mind, but it was humanly impossible to do so. The moment when we kissed crept into every thought I had. It was the best and biggest drug rush I had felt in a long time. It made me feel as if my mind was short-circuiting. It brought everything into complete focus; mainly my desire of the intimate contact I have denied myself for far too long. I couldn't tell myself love wasn't important anymore, because I had experienced it again. Like the moon pulling the tide from a beach, I realized I needed it. Before I didn't get another chance.

I was nearly asleep when a noise brought me back to full consciousness. I wasn't expecting anyone, not this late. Without hesitation I reached for the shotgun I kept next to my night table. My steps were quiet and fast. I slinked towards the noise coming from my front door. With my ear carefully placed against it, I could hear a pair of feet nervously shuffling on the stone tiles.

I swung open the door, thrusting my shotgun through the opening.

'Woah, not the face!'

It couldn't be. The shadowy figure took a step towards me, into the faint light coming from inside.

'Yeah. Hi, Sophie. Uh, quick question. Do you always point a shotgun at friendly visitors?'

Completely baffled I stood before him. I was nearly at loss for words.

'Depends.' I replied, my voice arrogant. 'You always run off after you kiss someone?' I sarcastically adjusted my aim to have a clear shot at his face.

'You might want to cover up... or not.' He teasingly remarked, reminding me of the way I stood in front of him, only wearing a top and panties. I couldn't tell what part of my semi-exposed body he was looking at. It made me tantalizingly nervous and bashful at the same time.

'Don't change the subject.' I snapped at him. I was done playing games.

'But I brought you something.' He dangled a large leather bag in front of my eyes and offered me a smile. 'Can I come in?'

Unable to hold back a grin, I felt single-handedly defeated by his unanticipated presence alone. I couldn't maintain my no-nonsense persona, no matter how hard I tried. Even if he deserved it, just a little. I lowered the barrel of the shotgun as my heart grew warm again. I watched him shift his posture before me as I contemplated the situation at hand. My toes wiggled on the wooden panels from pure enjoyment. I told him to wait and shut the door. Hastily I snatched the jeans from the sofa and wiggled myself into them.

'How did you know where to find me?' I continued as he passed me, entering my home. 'You ah- got trouble letting go of the spy business?'

'Now _that_ would've been so much cooler.' he chuckled, 'But no, your friend told me. The merc who's bad at losing.' Goddamn it, MacCready. I knew the consequences of his loose lips would turn up sooner or later. I wondered what else he told him when I wasn't there to shut him up. I opened the bag Deacon left sitting on my dinner table.

'Where did you get these?' I gasped when I saw he brought me vinyl records, all of which were in mint condition.

'Mystery.' He innocently replied as he took a seat on my sofa.

I flipped through the records in the bag. This man brought me the classics, the songs I truly adored listening to. Music served as my most precious link to my past. Mac must've told him, there was no other explanation.

'They're all yours.'

'Thank you.' I breathed as I held the records close to my chest. Then I turned on the record player and  listened to the crackling static sound of the needle hitting the record for the first time. I always loved that sound.

'What's your poison?' I asked him.

'Surprise me.'

With a spring in my step I disappeared into the room adjacent to the one I left him in. Having a moment to myself, I tried to get a grip on the situation. It was surreal, having him sit on my sofa in the middle of the night as if it was the most common thing in the world. I realized I had to be the person to address the elephant in the room. But the question remained as to what kind of approach I would use. As I poured our drinks, my thoughts wandered. I fantasized about feeling his lips on mine once more, leading his hands to all of the places I wanted to feel his touch. There was no point in denying anymore. I had fallen dangerously hard for him.

My breathing was staggered as I walked back in the room. But my nerves betrayed me once I faced him again, and I found myself lacking the guts to fulfill my own desire. Instead, we spent the next two hours discussing a wide range of topics, aside from the one I was interested in the most... _himself_. For every question I posed him, he seemed to have another one ready to fire back at me. And if he didn't, he had a convincing way of changing the subject entirely.

When he finally granted me a moment of silence, I decided it was a golden opportunity for me to get answers.

'So. Serious question.' I started while I poured him his third drink of the night, spilling a little on my top. After I handed him the glass, I returned to lay flat on my back in the sofa while he sat close to me on the wooden floor.

'What's with the sunglasses?'

'It's all about the sunglasses. I'm telling you, best ten caps investment you'll ever make.' He replied amusingly and continued to read a small text printed on the back of a record cover.

'Deacon,' I softly started, demanding his full attention by touching his shoulder briefly.

'Hm?' He craned his torso around to face me.

In silence, I raised my hand towards his face and placed my fingers on the frame of his glasses. He reached for my wrist. It looked like he wanted to pull my hand away, to stop me from what I was about to do. But he didn't, instead he held me in a weak grasp.

Hesitantly I pulled them away, until I held them in my hands. For the first time since we met, my eyes locked with his. A set of dark blue eyes stared right through me. I imagined this moment to be a lot easier.

'What made you run?' My voice was low and careful as I studied his eyes. I could tell he disliked my question, because he broke eye-contact and turned away from me.

'Look, I'm not the kind of person you think I am.'

'You're wrong.' I immediately replied, the handful of moments we shared appearing before my eyes, serving as the evidence behind my conviction.

'You _intrigue_ me, Sophie.' He confessed with difficulty in his voice, as if the way he felt about me was a burden to bear.

'Truth is,' he continued, placing his glass on my coffee table. 'This is highly unusual for me.'

'What do you mean?' I knew I was dangerously close to the answer I searched for. As a distraction for myself, I picked up his sunglasses and twirled them around in my hands, acting as if I was busy studying them. He turned around and placed his elbow on the sofa, against my hip. That small amount of contact between us was enough to rile me up. I held my breath.

'Meeting someone as beautiful as you,' He came closer, placing his hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his hand emanated through my skin the moment he removed it, only to place it on my cheek. It felt like sitting in a rollercoaster, nervously listening to the menacing ratcheting sound as I went up the first and biggest hill, ready to face the tipping point.

'Shut up, you fool.' My voice stuttered, dazed by his careless words. Afraid I'd lose myself entirely in the boldness of his words and the addictiveness of his touch, I backed away a little. He shook his head and without flinching, he removed a stray lock of hair out of my face with his fingers.

'Thinking of you...' he spoke as a smirk formed on his lips. His voice was rugged and almost painfully honest. He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, his intentions clearly visible in his eyes.

Slowly he crawled on top of me planting his elbows next to my shoulders as his hands were framing my face. He towered above me, his shoulders broad and solid to the touch as I placed my hands on them. He paused, his face hovering close to mine, studying me with his eyes. Overwhelmed by his intrusive gaze, I closed mine.

Our breaths mingled as I enjoyed the fullness of his lips sliding over mine. His teasingly slow pace was unbearable. He tasted me passionately with his tongue while I had a firm grip on the back of his neck, his black hair tangled between my fingers. Shamelessly we continued to act out the scenario I had concocted in my mind.

I pulled him closer, completely against me. His heartbeat was pounding with deep, fast thuds against my chest. I tilted my head back, inviting him to move on to another sensitive part of my sexually starved body. He took my cue, sensually redirecting his kiss towards my neck. His three-day stubble scoured against my soft skin. As I inhaled his scent, I clenched his t-shirt and moved it up a little. He let out a sultry, short chuckle. His skin was scorching hot when I placed my longing hands on it.

My stiffened legs shuffled against his sides feverishly, I wanted to do nothing else as wrap them around his waist. I let out a short, quiet moan as his warm breath traveled down my chest. His hands ran across my sides when I opened my eyes again, his fingers gently brushing across the side of my breast. He made it seem like an accident, a playful mistake. He looked up at me with a ravenous look in his eyes, desire in its purest form displayed before me. It was almost threatening, as if nothing could stop him from his actions.

A knock on the door, as loud as the heartbeat in my ears. We looked up at each other as if we were caught, both our breathing shaky.

'You've got to be kidding me.' He mumbled, pressing one last kiss on my shoulder as he exhaled nervously through his nose.

'Whoever it is, I'll get rid of them.' I assured him.

'General.'

Preston greeted me formally as I stood there. A cold wind flew inside against my hot skin. It made me shiver.

'I've come baring devastating news. You are needed at The Castle. Immediately.'

'What? _Right now_?' I exclaimed.

'Yes, is there a problem? I absolutely require your presence there.' Frustration washed over me, my brain unwilling to accept this unlucky, abrupt ending of our intimate moment.

'Give me ten.' I told Preston, the harsh reality painfully clear to me. 'I'll join you shortly.'

I leaned against the closed door as the aftermath of our short, steamy moment still lingered all over my body.

'What, Uncle Sam come knocking often?' He asked me curtly, now sitting back up straight. His t-shirt wasn't properly rolled down, exposing the skin of his side. I gave him a exasperated nod as he walked up to me.

'Your thoughts?' He asked me as he slides his hands over my arms, closing in around my wrists.

'You.' I grinned, biting my lip. He placed his hands on the door. I stood between his arms, completely drunk on his nearness, savoring his dominant pose.

'When will I see you again?' He asked me, while his thirsty lips reached for my neck.

'Stay.' I whispered as the kiss he planted on me drove me into a high, nearly bursting into flames. 'I want you to stay.'

'When will you return?' He asked, as he came back into my view.

'I won't be long.' I assured him, placing one last kiss on his lips.

With the brightest smirk on my face I grabbed my bag hanging over the chair and stormed out the door, a whirlwind of emotions blasting through my mind. The sooner I left here, the sooner I would return. Nothing else mattered anymore.  

 

 


	4. Him and Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sophie returns home with one thing on her mind: continuing where they left off. But when her eyes fall on a little black notebook that isn't hers, curiosity takes the lead...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter is pretty much NSFW. You've been warned. Man, I loved writing this. Passion, drama, conflict. More to come. Much more. As always, I hope you enjoy reading.

I came back home a few hours later when the sun was rising in the distance. Along the way, I cursed Preston in my mind with the most vile words I could come up with. 'Devastating news' he called it. Little did I know I was pulled away from my home to investigate a serious case of theft from our supply room. Playing detective around The Castle couldn't wait until the next day.

After I unlocked my door I took a peek inside. Deacon hadn't left. Not this time. He was asleep on my sofa, all curled up. I took a seat next to him and sat there for a while, a satisfied grin winding its way across my lips. I caressed the skin peaking from under his t-shirt, hoping I'd wake him gently to continue where we left off.

My gaze fell on a notebook on the floor and I noticed that it was not one of my own. It had to be his. A jolt of electricity shot through my belly, piquing my curiosity and driving me to action. Having reassured myself that he was still asleep, I snagged it off the ground and ran to my bedroom as if I held a conquered treasure in my hands.

With a flick of a switch, I turned on a dim light and studied the outside of the book. It had a black leather cover and most pages were torn and tattered, others were missing. I flipped open the book on a random page. A summary of features was scrawled on the faded piece of paper. 'Brown hair, grey eyes.' 'Female.' 'Likes the classics.' 'Possible recruit. Confirm intel and gain trust. Befriend.'

A word was written with several thick circles drawn around it, lines connecting with other keywords.

_My name._

I felt my eyes widen, my spine stiffen. In silence I stared at my name, my eyes stuttering. The most unnerving feeling hit me right in the guts right before I stormed out of my room, taking an offensive stance before him.

'Wake up.' I demanded, my voice trembling from the hybrid feeling of anger and disbelief that coursed through my veins.

'Oh, hey you.' He murmured as he straightened himself, smiling as he was rubbing his sleepy eyes. 'You're back.'

'I found your notes.' I sneered at him, throwing the notebook against his chest. With a dismal thud it fell down onto his lap. He took it into his hands, clenching it and tapping it a few times against his other hand.

'Okay. I can explain.' He spoke calmly.

'Well, that's just peachy.' I replied sarcastically, my hands resting on my hips.

'It's not that simple, Sophie. Trust me.'

_'Trust you_?' I scoffed, 'Well, aren't you the comedian.' I snagged his notebook out of his hand with one swift gesture. 'Let's see-' I started my rant, flipping wildly through the pages. 'Oh, here.' Irately, I pointed at the series of words he scribbled down. 'Possible recruit? Befriend and gain trust? What _the actual fuck_ , Deacon?'

He slides his hand across his forehead to rest over his eyes, covering them as my words continued to carve a path of destruction. The moment of silence that followed made me realize this situation was even worse than I believed.

'My god.' I quietly mumbled, complete and utter disbelief in my voice. 'You tricked me. Y- you knew about me.' He looked away from me. In spite of the grimace on his face, I continued pouring out my feelings in front of him.

'You knew _exactly_ what to say. Where to show up. I knew it, damn it.' I berated myself so violently with the truth that I turned around, unable to face the person who misled me so tactfully. 'I knew you were too good to be true.'

'God damn it, it's not like that.' Deacon grunted as he stood up, grabbing me by my shoulders. He turned me around so that I would face him.

'Listen carefully, Sophie. Yes. It's true. I had orders to spy on you.' He paused for a moment, a worried scowl appearing on his face. I force myself to consider his words, to come to terms with the fact he had an hidden agenda all this time.

'For how long?' I hesitantly asked, knowing that deep down I didn't want to hear the answer. He reached for my wrist, dangling wistfully against my side.

'Look, when I first met you-'

'Don't.' I sharply interrupted him with closed eyes as I shoved his tender hands away from me. I tried to listen to his words. But the anger boiling inside my chest insisted otherwise.

'After I met you that night in the bar I had this funny feeling you would cause me trouble. I didn't want to drag you into this- this complete mess. I changed my mind. I couldn't, I-' He groaned, noticeably frustrated by the fact he was forced to tell me the truth.

'Deacon, what's going on?' I ask with noticeable worry in my voice. Seeing him before me, struggling with his confession made me waver. Even in this moment, I couldn't ignore the attraction I felt towards him, fueled by everything that happened in these few but explosive days. The way he acted made me doubt my own words, made me feel guilty for the acrid way I had confronted him.

Driven into a corner by my last question, he took a deep breath and backed away from me, reclaiming his seat on my sofa. I recognized the look on his face. I had seen it before, on the night we met when he so casually strode into my life. That moment was being churned and ground into fine dust, fading away to nothing by the slightest breeze imaginable. It was rigged from the start.

'It's not like we have a reputation for operating out in the open. I- ah, where do I begin?' He sighed, clearly weighing his words inside his mind before letting them run over his lips.

'Okay. Does 'The Railroad' ring any bells?'

'Oh I know about them.' I replied honestly. A few weeks ago I was asked to attend meeting with the spokesperson of the Brotherhood. They lacked intel on The Railroad, turning to me for answers I couldn't give. Not even if I wanted to.

'Supposedly they're an organization that saves the Gen 3's. But they're elusive, that's for sure.' I answered rather nonchalantly. I didn't understand why he posed me this question.

'What's this got to do with me?' I continued, my voice exhausted from the non-stop inquiry about his true intentions.

'Good, then I can skip the whole sales pitch,' he chuckled. The wide smile on his face disappeared instantly when his eyes locked with mine. I wasn't in the mood for a laugh and he got that message instantly.

'No? All right, sorry.' He spoke awkwardly, but he continued once I kept my mouth shut.

'When the tales of your exploits reached our ears, it was an obvious decision to seek you out. Truthfully, we kind of hoped you'd be an asset to us. You know the wastes. I mean, c'mon. You're the damn General of-'

'Stop.' I shouted, begging for an end to the endless stream of new information that made my head spin.

'Just stop. This is insane.' His eyes were undeserving to watch me waver. I refused to look at him, for I knew it could be my demise.

'I didn't know if I could trust you, you have to understand. Most of the time, there is real danger for the people involved. It's not as glamorous as some make it out to be. And once I met you...' He averted his eyes. I could've sworn I saw him blushing.

'I couldn't continue with my assignment.'

'Oh so, now you're telling me you lied out of the goodness of your heart?' I exclaimed. He closed in on me, his eyes full of sorrow. I took a step back to avoid his touch once more.

'Don't you see?' He raised his voice, aggressively enough for me to stop thinking and listen to him. With his hands he cupped my face and I - foolish and captivated as I was - let him. He directed my eyes into his by gently guiding my chin to face him.

'I refused to give them any piece of intel I had gathered on you. I protected you, _damn it_.' His words sank in deep, all the way to my heart, igniting the spark I had previously believed to be extinguished.

'All I wanted was to keep you safe.'

'Deacon...' The tenderness of my voice returned as he closed his arms around my waist, placing a strong kiss on my temple. I caved in, answering his touch by stroking my fingers over his cheek. Feeling torn, I was unable to decide whether or not he was telling the truth. I caught myself romanticizing his lies. I needed them to be true. I wanted them to be real.

'What about yesterday?' I asked him quietly, struggling to accept his delicate and honest words.

'I know how crazy it sounds.' He sighed, 'But I knew the moment I met you. You, Sophie... you were different.'

Speechless, I stared into his eyes and I caught myself falling for him all over again.

'It doesn't matter anymore.' He announced sadly, his hand now lingering on the doorknob. 'I understand if you want me to leave.' He mumbled as he opened the door beside me.

I could've taken this moment to conceive his fear and thus teaching him a valuable life lesson, but I didn't. Nothing happened. I stood there like a fool, my feet nailed to the ground. Amidst this moment filled with truths pouring out and lies being uncovered, I felt enraptured by the amount of passion he sank into his every word.

I placed my hand on his, shutting the door with a sharp thud.

'I don't think so.' I whispered, gazing straight in those dark blue eyes of his.

I pinned him against the closed door, my hands clutching fistfuls of his white t-shirt. He enveloped me, both our bodies impatient and needy, unable to take it slow. His hands sank into my hips, pulling me against him.

He turned me around, facing the door. His hand sensually crept upwards to rest against my throat, sliding his thumb over my separated lips.

I pushed myself against him and let my head rest against his shoulder as he worked his hand further down my shivering body. I looked at my chest when I felt him sliding his hands under my top from behind. Without hesitation he shamelessly cupped my breasts, my nipples locked tight between his nimble fingers. A shy moan escaped my lips when he started to knead them. While he continued to savor my neck like an aged whiskey he began to pull at my shirt, slowly exposing my waist. With his rugged hands he indulged my feverish skin, yet he had hardly satisfied my growing desire for his touch.

'Please...' I whimpered, circling my hands around his neck. Gradually I felt myself slipping away, succumbing to the carnal attention I had craved for the past days.

'No need to beg,' he assured me with a dazed and mellowed voice, his lips brushing against my earlobe.

He collected my wrists with one hand and pushed them upward against the door. I was at his mercy, eagerly awaiting his next move. A shiver traveled down my spine as he turned me around and lifted me up from the ground from around my hips. My shaky legs wound around his waist as we traveled across the room, aflame by the bold swirl of his tongue against mine. My fingers trailed the outline of his shirt, tugging the fabric upwards. He understood what I wanted, what I needed so badly to feel.

He dropped me on my bed and inspected me. My now messy hair, the buckle of my belt opened and dangling against my jeans. My hands reached for him, but he was too far away.

'Come here.' I spoke, my voice sultry and demanding.

He grinned wickedly as he grasped my knees, easing them apart. Now placed between my legs, his face loomed over mine. When I lifted my head to answer his gesture, he retreated further down my body.

'You tease...' I mumbled, intoxicated by the smoldering look in his eyes.

Before he was out of reach, I ran my fingers through his hair and with a loose grip I directed his view into my longing eyes. He escaped me again, lifting the worn fabric of my shirt with his warm hand. Enthralled by his touch I sat up straight. I couldn't stand it anymore, the thought of anything between his hands and my skin. When I fell back on the soft mattress he kissed my chest, his lips reaching the hidden skin under my bra. I felt the result of his arousal pushing against me. His greedy tongue took possession of my nipple, causing me to writhe beneath him. I squirmed under his grasp as my breath grew rapid and shallow.

I inhaled sharply when the sensation of his hand against between my legs hit me. His hand applied pressure, matching the movement of my hips rocking back and forth. Once Deacon noticed how much I enjoyed his agile fingers teasing me, he unbuttoned my jeans. I saw his hand vanish inside my panties before I let my head fall back on the pillow. I couldn't bear to watch this slow ride of delight. It was almost maddening. With closed eyes I listened to my uncontrollable deep moans, fueled by the long absence of these shameless actions.

'I can't wait anymore.' I breathed as I pulled off the ribbon of my pony tail, my hair lushly dangling over my bare shoulders.

Hastily I worked myself out of my jeans underneath him as I watched him take of his t-shirt. He threw it on the floor. The outline of his muscles were softened by the dim light. My hands ran over his shoulders and across his chest. Proudly I took in this moment, having this unbelievable charming liar between my legs. I had him under my spell and I relished every single second of witnessing it. With my feet I shoved his jeans down, counting on him to finish the job successfully.

His hand slides over my arms resting around my face, ending with a lovely embrace of hands. Our fingers intertwined as delicately as if they were made out of porcelain.  I found my flushed face buried in his neck as he entered me. I craned my head and let out a stuttering moan, unable to help myself from digging my fingernails into his broad shoulders. My back arched, allowing me to accept him with more ease. He paused all movements, shivering from pleasure as his hard thighs were pressed against my bottom. I could tell it's been a long time for him, too.

When he closed in on me, I noticed how he was shuddering from desire. I kissed his jaw line as my breasts rose and fell with the rhythm of his fluid, powerful trusts.

He grabbed my upper legs, sliding his hands across my legs to my ankles. Slowly but surely he directed my legs against his torso, tampering with my sanity. I panted heavily as I watched my own feet dangle next to his face, unable to focus as he brought me to unbearable heights. I resonated with him as he let out a dominant grunt, speeding up his rhythm even more. Unchaining my wild and ravenous feelings, I felt completely out of this world. His musk filled the room, primal, thick and hot.     

I felt myself nearing my shattering. My eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy, grabbing hold of his hips. My blood hummed in my veins, every doubt and worry cast away. I craned my neck sideways and clenched my eyes shut, crying out his name, beckoning him like a siren's song.

My legs quaked wildly against him when I reached my breaking point, molten waves of pleasure washing over me. He spread my legs and placed his hands on the headboard. I saw his flawless muscles flex from the devotion he put behind his last movements. With my hand behind his neck, I pulled him close. He bit his lip as he joined me in the finale of our raw, physical desire.

'Damn...' He breathed, 'You don't understand how-'

I shushed him and took his hand, placing it on my chest.

'Listen.' I commanded him, still feeling my heartbeat pounding rapidly in all the right ways.

'So fast.' He remarked with amazement, slowly retreating from me.

In the soft coziness of our passionate aftermath, we laid entangled on my bed. I laid my head to rest on his chest as his right arm kept me in his warm embrace. In silence we drifted away into a well-deserved sleep...


End file.
